The Spindle Chair

by Shellie Arnold

  “No, Laurie. No.”

  This was it. This was when his head would actually explode, like he had always thought it would.

  “Pierce, it’s not John’s fault.”

  His stomach churned. His whole body tensed, poised like a spring. No, he thought. Never again would he mistreat others because of his past.

  “Pierce.”

  Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

  “Pierce, please.”

  Laurie was right, John wasn’t at fault. She was right about a lot of things. John hadn’t known about him. John didn’t have a mother. John hadn’t grown up in a loving home. John didn’t know God.

  Laurie’s expression encouraged him to reach out to his brother. Pierce looked John square in the face. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m not angry at you.”

  Laurie turned to John. “John, what’s changed?”

  “Dad owes back taxes and doesn’t want me to pay them. The county’s threatening to seize the property. Sunday, when I found him, he was digging in the rain. The pigs trampled him. He has a fractured tibia—a broken leg—bruises, lacerations. He’s in the intensive care unit now, sedated. He has double pneumonia and a seriously infected wound on his arm that’s resistant to antibiotics.”

  Guilt slapped Pierce. “He’s been in the hospital for three days, and you didn’t tell us because of me.”

  “I didn’t know what to say.” John looked at Laurie then back to Pierce. “How do I ask my brother to dig up our mother?”

  ***

  That evening, Pierce tried to pay attention as he and Laurie watched the last Lamaze DVD. But the images on the screen somehow didn’t seem real. Or not real enough.

  Could a woman really smile during labor? Possibly with the right pain medication. In the perfect place. Under the best circumstances.

  Certainly not in a dark room, with a husband who offered no help, enduring terrible pain, and bleeding to death.

  Were the memories driving Luther insane? Was that why he dug constantly? Or was he now aware that if he didn’t find her, she could be lost forever. Or worse yet, coldly moved to an unmarked, pauper’s grave, or unwittingly covered by new construction.

  John still had trouble believing Luther had buried their mother on the farm. But he had contacted county officials since Luther’s hospitalization. He knew how to legally have the body exhumed and prepared for a proper burial. Laurie had suggested Annabelle be moved to the church cemetery. John said Luther was stable enough to discuss that option, but had refused to do so even when told the county wouldn’t allow Annabelle’s remains to be left on site if the land were sold at auction.

  Which meant Pierce needed to find his mother’s grave, soon. What a gruesome thought.

  He just wasn’t ready. Could he ever be ready?

  As awful as it sounded, at least Luther’s condition precluded Pierce’s having to decide whether or not to visit him. Pierce wasn’t ready for that, either.

  “Pierce, what do you think?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll have the epidural as quickly as possible and forget all this natural childbirth stuff. I’ll practice the breathing, but I don’t want to feel anything I don’t have to.”

  “I think that’s the perfect plan.”

  “Will you hang the border for me tomorrow morning, before the baby shower?”

  “Sure. Laurie?” He couldn’t get a certain picture out of his mind.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you see the holes around the farmhouse? Is the pig pen by the tree?”

  She paused the DVD, waddled to the kitchen. He heard her open and close drawers. Then he smelled popcorn, heard the microwave beep. She returned with a bowl in one hand, a notebook in the other, and a bright pink pen between her teeth.

  She gave him the bowl, shoved popcorn in his mouth, then clicked her pen. “I’ll draw it for you.”

  ***

  Laurie was pushing. Panting and pushing. Sweating and groaning but making no progress. The baby wouldn’t come—

  Pain woke Laurie from a dead sleep. Both calves had cramped.

  “Ow. Ow.”

  Pierce awakened and turned on the bedside lamp. “What is it? You’re not bleeding again.”

  “No. Help me.” She reached in vain for her feet. “I have cramps in both legs.”

  He scrambled off the end of the bed, knelt on the floor, and gently pushed on her toes.

  “Easy. Oh. Ow.”

  “Your potassium’s probably low. I’ll rub them and get you some Gatorade.”

  The sadistic twist brought tears to her eyes. Laurie imagined her muscles wrenching, tearing themselves apart from the inside out.

  Is this how labor would feel? Except she’d be trying to push a baby into the world?

  The cramps finally subsided. Pierce hurried to the kitchen, returned with a large glass for her. He was being so sweet, so supportive, despite his struggles. She didn’t want to add to it, but …

  God, if I tell him what I’m feeling, what I dreamed, it may set him back.

  “Will you hold me?” she asked.

  He climbed across the bed toward her. “Finish your drink.”

  She did. He set the cup aside.

  “Hold me.” She clung to him, bit her lip.

  The two become one.

  “I have to tell you,” she said. “I don’t want to, but God won’t let me not tell you.”

  “Shh. It’s okay.”

  But his grip on her tightened, his breath quickened, his heartbeat increased against hers.

  “I don’t want to worsen your struggle. But I’m so afraid right now.” She buried her face in his neck. “I dreamed I was in labor. And I was afraid. I couldn’t push the baby out and the contractions were immense, and you were there and I needed you there, but you were so scared and I hated asking you to stay. Please, just hold me.”

  For long minutes she rested in his arms. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  “I wake you when I have nightmares,” he said. “It’s okay. If we hold onto each other, we’ll be okay.”

  She hoped he was right.

  ***

  They descended on Pierce’s home like a swarm of perfumed bees. His living room held every woman Pierce knew in Rowe City. They moved in different directions, each performed a different task. It was coordinated chaos, complete with laughter, hugs, and all things pink. Pink cups, plates, napkins, even pink finger-sandwiches.

  He didn’t dare touch those.

  Between refilling cups of punch and wiping counters in the kitchen, he avoided hearing most of the labor stories. He allowed himself brief periods of leaning against the doorjamb to watch Laurie, his beautiful, sweet wife, whose eyes occasionally locked on his, transmitting love. Then she’d receive another gift, and the squealing and aah-ing would crescendo again. Several times he noticed her touch a fingertip to the pearl studs in her ears. The action had become such a habit, she didn’t seem to realize she was doing it. Joy filled him—although more than once he yearned for silence—because Laurie was having the time of her life.

  As the last car pulled away, Kay hugged him. “How are you holding up, Daddy?”

  “I’m good.”

  Laurie sank onto the couch, extended her arms. “Look at all of this. Will it fit in the room?”

  Kay shook a finger at Laurie. “Don’t you overdo, putting it all away.”

  Daniel came through the front door, went straight to Laurie. “There’s my girl. Son, you still alive?”

  “I survived.”

  Kay hugged Pierce again. “He was wonderful. He finished the border in the nursery this morning. Everyone thinks it’s beautiful. He served and cleaned. The kitchen’s spotless, and there’s nothing more for me to do.” They kissed him and Laurie goodbye.

  “I want to start putting things away, but I’m too tired,” Laurie said.

  “That’s why we’re going to bed.”

  “It’s
barely seven.”

  He led her to their room, helped her undress and slipped a nightgown over her head, feeding her arms through the short, soft sleeves. Then he stripped to his boxers and turned out the light. With a gentle nudge, he coaxed her head onto her pillow and settled against her.

  “I’ll help you put the gifts away tomorrow, that way I’ll know where things are, too.”

  He patted Hope, and they went to sleep.

  ***

  The strange land Pierce found himself in the next day contained diapers no bigger than napkins, diaper bags that looked like purses, and a portable breast pump that looked like a torture device from a horror movie.

  Thank God he was a man.

  Laurie picked a drawer for the bibs. Changed her mind.

  Pierce bundled the socks like she wanted, stocked them in the basket she gave him. She moved those, too.

  More than once, she changed her mind then switched it back. Sometimes while laughing, sometimes while fighting tears. He didn’t understand, and it didn’t matter that he didn’t understand. He simply blamed her behavior on pregnancy, and prayed she’d regain her sanity after delivery.

  “What about this little guy?” He lifted the fluffy teddy bear from the bag of gifts his parents had given.

  “Lay it in the crib. It’ll be there waiting when we bring Hope home.”

  He did so, then set the bag aside.

  “Wait,” she said. “Look in the bottom. There’s a Bible. I think we should leave it out, maybe displayed on the dresser or a shelf.”

  “A Bible’s one of the first things they ever gave me.”

  “Really? You never told me that.”

  “Didn’t think about it.” He shrugged. “I guess not all memories are bad, huh?”

  “And we’re making happy ones now, so you’ll have even more.” She looked around the room. “I think we have almost everything. But I still need receiving blankets.”

  “Receiving blankets?”

  “You know, little, soft blankets to wrap the baby in when she’s small. Babies chill easily. I have one your parents got us, but that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Look at these.” She held up the tiniest pink dress he had ever seen, along with a doll-sized matching bonnet. “Don’t you just love it?”

  “Will she be that small?”

  “Of course she will. Probably between six and eight pounds.”

  Six and eight pounds? Like, a gallon of milk or water? Was she kidding?

  “But I’m all thumbs. How will I dress her?”

  She smiled at him. “You’ll practice.”

  “What about diapers?”

  “You’ll practice that, too. The tapes always fasten in the front.” She laughed at him. “Or you’ll give her to me.”

  He grinned. “I’m a tough guy. I can handle messy diapers.”

  Her voice grew tight. “Can you handle me in labor?”

  He searched her face, oscillating between being ashamed and being offended. After all the changes he had made, did she think he wouldn’t be there for her when the time came?

  “I did okay when I took you to the ER.”

  She closed her eyes as if to shield herself. Tears squeezed free at the corners and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Yes. And we haven’t talked about it. You took care of me, but—”

  “I’ve changed, Laurie. Don’t you know that?”

  “I’m not saying you haven’t. I just need to hear it.”

  Two will become one. Talk to her, so she’ll know.

  He took her hands, kissed them, and placed them on his heart. “Feel that?”

  She nodded, her eyes still bright with unshed tears.

  “It beats for you.”

  “Oh, Pierce.”

  “It beats for you and Hope. I will always be wherever you need me, wherever she needs me. No matter what.

  “I admit, I was scared before. Partly because of my memories, partly because of my ignorance, and partly because I forgot that wherever God leads us and wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

  Her tears flowed freely now, but this time they were the happy tears he had always loved.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you. And I can handle messy diapers.” He kissed her. “Now where can we buy blankets for Hope?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Laurie knew she would always carry this memory close to her heart. And laugh about it for the rest of her life.

  Pierce. Measuring and re-measuring, running in and out of the house, trying to use the table saw that Angus had sent by way of Gilbert, which now sat outside the back door. Discovering he’d cut a board too long. Cutting again, and finding the board too short.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll get it this time. I bought plenty of wood. I can do this.”

  She stored the freshly washed blankets and other baby items they’d bought while shopping with Daniel and Kay. Sweet bibs, tiny tights. Shiny black dress shoes that looked like they belonged on a baby doll.

  She draped old sheets over the readied crib and other furniture to protect them, and was glad she did. In less than an hour sawdust coated Pierce like he’d walked through a cloud of coarse flour. Two boards had been installed, and the pile of discarded, partially destroyed planks grew outside the nursery window. If he finished the shelves before she delivered, it’d be a miracle.

  She sat, rocking in the chair in the corner. The quiet creaks marked the passing seconds with a gentle rhythm like a lazy nursery rhyme. She let herself relax and nap, her sleep occasionally interrupted by Pierce’s trips in and out of the room. Hope kicked, and Laurie awoke.

  “You surprise me,” she said dreamily, watching Pierce assemble the shelves on the nursery floor.

  He threw her a grin. “Because I figured this out?”

  “No.”

  What words should she use? How could she say he’d become everything she had ever wanted, ever needed, without sounding like she was throwing his past struggles in his face?

  Whatever is true.

  Hope kicked again, stretched and rolled. Soon, it wouldn’t be just her and Pierce. Her dreams were coming true.

  Gratitude bubbled up inside her. “Remember when I told you that every dream I have depends on you?”

  Pierce lowered the drill, looked at her. “Yeah. I was in Florida, missing you like crazy. Why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m so thankful. That wasn’t very long ago; so much has happened since then. But you never stopped trying.”

  “You expected me to, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know if expected is the right word. I was scared you would walk away from our life, our dreams, away from me and our child.”

  “So, you’re surprised I stayed.”

  “I’m surprised by how much you love me and our baby. It’s more than I ever hoped for, more than I ever dreamed.”

  “I can do this, Laurie. I know God can help me be there when you deliver. I won’t miss it. I won’t.”

  She stood. Hope kicked again, hard and low. Laurie jerked. Something had just happened.

  He grabbed her shoulders and held her away. “What is it? Don’t you believe me?”

  She laughed. She raised both hands to her face and laughed while tears streamed down.

  “What?” he asked. She could hear the indignation in his words. “Tell me what’s so funny. I can do it, Laurie. I’ll stay with you. I’ll be there for you like my father never was for my mother—.”

  She grabbed his dust-covered face and kissed him.

  “My water just broke. Three days early, but I’ll take it!”

  ***

  To Laurie, the next moments were like being in a live episode of The Three Stooges.

  She stood still while Pierce ran to get a towel, came back with six, and sopped up the puddle on the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll replace the wood flooring if I have to.”

  He grabbed the soiled towels and dashed back down the hall. He s
tarted the washing machine, then flew back into the nursery with a jug of laundry soap in his hand.

  “Pierce.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just cover the saw and unplug it. Then it won’t matter if rain comes.”

  “Okay, but—”

  He was gone again.

  She walked slowly to their room to change her pants. She’d simply toss the dirty pair in the washer with the towels.

  “Pierce?” The back door slammed; she put on clean jeans.

  Pierce raced into their bedroom. “Give me the pants.” He yanked the wet pair out of her hand.

  She heard the washing machine lid slam, saw Pierce dart straight to the bathroom. She lifted the overnight bag she’d packed upon returning from the beach, just in case. She set it on the bed, slipped her feet into her loafers, and heard a panic-filled, “Okay.”

  She peeked into the bathroom. Pierce stood in the shower, peeling off his clothes as the water pounded him clean and drenched the floor. In his haste he hadn’t closed the shower curtain. He was moving so fast, he looked like he had eight arms and legs.

  “I’m hurrying.” He yelled over his shoulder without looking. “Laurie, just sit and breathe. I’ll be ready in five minutes. Three. Just sit and breathe. We’ll leave in three minutes.”

  She laughed at him, tossed a towel on the puddled floor. Then she leaned against the doorframe to enjoy the rest of the show as he lathered the soap, scrubbed with his bare hands, and mistakenly squeezed her conditioner onto his head.

  “You won’t be able to rinse that out in three minutes!” She yelled above the thrumming water.

  “Yes. Yes, I will. Just breathe, Laurie.” His hands stilled. He opened his eyes, looked with horror at his spread fingers. “What is this stuff?”

  She giggled. “It’s my super-hydrating conditioner.”

  His eyes widened with accusation. “It’s like runny mashed potatoes.”

  “Rinse out what you can, then wash twice.” She laughed again, turned to leave. “I’ll be in the car. Breathing.”

  ***

  Once again Pierce drove Laurie to the hospital. His sweating hands strangled the steering wheel, as he repeatedly hit the brakes to avoid breaking the sound barrier—or getting a hefty speeding ticket. Laurie called his parents, and as previously instructed, she called John, who was already on duty; he met them at the doors of Labor and Delivery.